And They Will Listen
by Queen of the Castle
Summary: Before Yana was even old enough to properly understand the concept of 'stories', he already had one building in his mind.


Before Yana was even old enough to properly understand the concept of 'stories', he already had one building in his mind. Though it didn't really feel like something he'd just made up. Some days it seemed more real to him than the madness of forever running away from the darkness as the last of the stars blinked out of existence.

Strangely, the other children in his section of the ship didn't seem to want to sink into the escape provided by tales of this madman that Yana dreamed of every night – this _Master_. Everyone had better things to be getting on with than listening to Yana's stories. Yana couldn't believe they thought that gathering water or running security patrols were more appealing than hearing about a man who could time travel like the old legends, and fought in endless wars, and even came back from the dead with different faces.

Granted, it probably wasn't precisely the kind of story that appealed to the masses. This was no hero who swept in and saved the day, as the other man who sometimes darted in and out of his dreams, the Doctor, seemed to fancy himself. Yet Yana couldn't help identifying with the Master, and it drove him half mad that no one else seemed to even want to try to do so as well.

In a different age, Yana thought he might have attempted to find a more enthusiastic audience for his story by trying his hand at writing one of those 'books' that old Gregorio down the hall claimed they'd still had on his home world prior to its evacuation. In a different age, he might have been lauded.

Instead, when Yana was shuffled off to a different refugee ship when he was eight years old, he was told unequivocally to grow up. They'd all like to just lay about wishing that they were somewhere, or someone, else if they could, Mrs Fillandry told him sharply as she dragged him to help out in the rationing rooms, but there was proper work to be done, and he'd do his part or else. Yana never did ask what the 'or else' entailed. The threat in her voice was explanation enough; after all the horrific things he'd seen in his dreams, he could imagine quite a range of punishments.

Though he never tried to shirk his task for fear of Mrs Fillandry's wrath, Yana hated that mindless work she set him to. In what little spare time he was afforded, instead of telling stories, he searched for something that he could do instead. There had to be some use for that mind that came up with all those wonderful and terrible things.

But as much as he enjoyed spending his time teaching himself about complex science – as much as he liked easily showing up the ship's experienced technicians despite not even having reached puberty yet, to the point that they all finally started looking upon him as someone worthwhile, instead of the silly child who just wouldn't stop talking nonsense – he never did stop dreaming. He still awoke covered in sweat and with images of fire and blood and the sound of screams and drum beats haunting him. However, he did learn the value of hording the story to himself; hiding it away. The boy who dreamed of every star, even the ones that had died so many years ago that history held no record of them, never went away entirely, for all that he was cloaked in the cover of the 'professor' whom everyone respected.

He promised himself that one day he'd use that respect to make them listen to _everything _he had to say, but it never quite happened. Like always, time got away from him, right up until the moment that it finally caught him.

At the end of his life, no one else still living remembered his stories. He'd never even told Chantho. But he never could forget.

It felt like more than just remembering himself as the Master shucked his human disguise. It felt like coming back to life, even though he died and regenerated almost immediately after. Yana had been necessary for his survival, but that useless human mind and even more useless old body had long since become so much excess baggage weighing him down. He didn't regret effectively killing him any more than he did killing that annoying insect girl.

Now he had a TARDIS at his disposal (albeit a fairly poor example of one), the Doctor to torment to keep things interesting, and the whole universe to play with.

The Master became the reality and Yana the story that he never told. The difference was that the Master never even wanted to tell it. He had much better things to convey to the universe at large.

And unlike that hapless human man that he'd been stuck as for a lifetime, the Master would make sure that no one could ever ignore him again.

_Everyone _would know the story of the Master. And they would fear him.

~FIN~


End file.
